Alphabet Soup
by Princess Of Diamonds
Summary: Twenty-six different one shots, all less then 500 hundred words. Dealing with the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Varying themes and varying characters to come.
1. A is for Agonize

**Chapter 1:** A is for Agonize

 **Author's Note:** This is my new story, and it will hopefully be 26 chapters long. These are random words beginning with the letters of the alphabet describing various characters, while also being under 500 words. I'll try my best to update ASAP but it will be challenging since I am frequently volunteering at a local hospital. Enjoy!

 _ **Agonize:**_ _undergo great mental anguish_ _through worrying about something_

Callie Shaw's blonde hair tickled her neck as she reclined backwards in her favorite chair. Tonight was a night she had hoped would be different, but sadly, it was the same. It was also sad that this situation was presented upon her so many times, that it could have been encompassed into her daily routine.

She had perfected this part of her routine. She would wish them good luck, and once they left, would her torture start. The wandering thoughts and the nail biting was just the beginning. He didn't know how much it killed and murdered her. It was painful, staring at the same four walls safe in the haven of her home, while there is a change that any day he could die. Everyday, he would wake up and save the world, in a more realistic version of Superman.

He was constantly being put in danger. She was afraid that someday he wouldn't come out victorious, and he would die. It pained her to think about it, but that was a reality that she would have to face one day. It was an occupational hazard, a small price to pay, for being a superhero. Even after all the good he did, it pained Callie to even let her thoughts wander this far. She was selfish, putting her own needs over the rest of the world.

She worried about him every single day, and every single night. There was not a time that she could remember that should could completely relax and forget about the danger he was in. She wasn't allowed to forget what he was doing, no matter how much she tried. It wasn't even as if she doubted his abilities, because he and his brother were the best in the state.

She was worried. The worst part was that he didn't even know. He thought that his career did not affect her in any way, but it did. She would pace back and forth in her living room waiting, for any sign he was alive. Before him, she didn't even know how to love, and now she thought it was possible to love someone too much.

A loud honk jolted Callie out of her thoughts. She slowly pulled back the flowered curtain and stared. A tall dark haired man and blonde haired man were exiting a car. She let out a breath that she did not even realize she was still holding. Everything would be okay. At least for now.


	2. B is for Bleak

**Chapter 2:** B is for Bleak

 **Author's Note:** A fun fact is that I originally wrote this as a separate assignment for school. With a closer look, I realized it reminded me of one character in particular. So with some tweaking, this is how it came to be.

 _ **Bleak:**_ _(of the weather) cold and miserable_

It was in an abandoned section of a very quaint town, where there was a cemetery, which had not been used in years. It was empty, where even the smallest sound could be heard throughout the land. Only one individual only used it. For many years, there lay a woman sobbing profusely on select days of the year.

The woman's hair, now streaked with gray lines, had a blonde tint to it. She was young, but had many wrinkles on her face, as if she had aged too quickly. She was kneeling down, her old slacks stained with the fresh dirt that had recently been planted there. In her arms lay a wreath with a wide array of flowers. The flowers had a bright hue, which were juxtaposed against the dark, gray clouds that covered the sky.

Her memory of that day, should have been somewhat been mended, as the old saying goes, "time heals all wounds." In reality, it was the same feeling she had experienced many years ago. It was ironic that some days she would hope it was just a dream, and everything was still all right, but she knew better, and it was not. His name was a whisper, and she heard it in her ears many times. Fenton, Fenton, Fenton. What should have been a symphony was now a cacophony.

Tears leaked from her eyes slowly, and then came all at once and it seemed never ending as they dripped onto her ragged clothes. The wind screamed, as if it were a representation of the monsters inside her soul. She did not even recognize the natural disaster occurring around her, as this gravestone was the only she was focused on. She slowly ran her hands over and over the cool marble of the gravestone, as if it were her last time touching it. She repeated this gesture, as if to somehow give the gravestone warmth. She sat at the gravestone for hours, gazing into what used to be a part of her. After she gently laid the wreath of flowers down, her hands began to shake, and her body began to tremble. A loud, banging sound came, and it was followed by the thunderstorm of a lifetime. The rain soaked into the woman's hair, and tattered clothes.

Every few seconds, the sky would explode, into another gunshot like sound, and it seemed the atmosphere was begging for her to return home. She slowly stood up, and glanced once at the gravestone, which now had a yellowish tint to it, after existing for so many years, and turned around. She broke out into a run, out of the place that had haunted her dreams, and escaped, back into the horror story she was living, reality.


	3. C is for Cliché

**Chapter 3:** C is for Cliché

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, I went on vacation and ended up staying for a few extra days.

 _ **Cliché:**_ _a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought_

The arrival of summer, led to the arrival of one of Joe's favorite holidays. The sun streamed through his window, and he turned to get out of bed. His feet didn't touch the ground, so he had to be careful as he leaped out of his bed to get ready. It was Father's Day, a day of appreciation for the figure that he adored and worshipped in his life.

He rummaged through his art materials for his favorite set of markers and coloring pencils. He paused and wondered if this was good enough. He saw his friend yesterday, who had gotten his father a large and ornate gift. The gift was intricate and expensive by the looks of it. His friend had told him that his father thought that the best gifts were the most expensive ones.

Joe thought that if his friend's father didn't think his homemade gift would be enough, he wondered if his father would do the same to him. He looked through his pockets to see if he had any spare money, but all he had was a dollar that his mother had misplaced.

Even if he wanted too, he couldn't buy his father anything that he wanted. The thought saddened him, but he realized that some gift was better than no gift. Also that if he didn't get started soon, his father would be disappointed no matter what.

Joe worked for hours on his gift, in order to make it the best work he had ever done. Not once stopping, unless for a necessity. He only told his mother what he was doing, as he knew that his brother would tell everyone including his father.

Fenton stopped, as a mass barreled into him. Joe had gotten up early on Father's Day, in order to give him his gift. The weird thing was that he looked nervous, as if it actually mattered what the gift was, he would love it regardless.

The gift was a cliché, a card made with colored markers and pencils. He had seen a hundred different cards like it, but it didn't even matter. A gift was a gift, and the fact that his son had made it by himself with no help, warmed his heart.

He didn't even need a gift from his son to be happy, spending his life, as Joe's father was a priceless enough gift. The smile on his face when he saw him was the best gift that anyone could ever have. Clichés may be rejected upon for lacking originality, but it is overdone for a reason.


	4. D is for Demolish

**Chapter 3:** D is for Demolish

 **Author's Note:** I had fun using such a clichéd story idea, as it provided the proper support for me to begin writing. Enjoy!

 _ **Demolish:**_ _to destroy or ruin, especially on purpose_

A loud blast jumbled his thoughts. He could feel it, the heat coming from all directions, the smoke scratching his throat, and an explosion that sounded like the world had ended. Instead of panicking and worrying like a normal person, his perception slowed down. He felt like screaming, except there was no sound coming out.

The smoke, fire, and ashes made should have made him dizzy, but it was the sight before him that caused his stomach to turn. The car that lay before him was demolished. It was at the point where it did not even look like a car anymore. There was one thought racing through his head, and would not leave him until he found the answer. It was like a mantra in his mind, Iola, Iola, Iola, and Iola. She was nowhere to be found, and there was no one attempting to look for her either.

He stepped, and started to run, but a pair of strong hands grabbed him. The arms were like a cage, trapping him from reaching his life. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless and hopeless, knowing that there was nothing that he could do.

Time slowed down, as he remembered his other half. The friendly punches, the passionate kisses, and the sweet hugs. Walking to school together, having races to see who was faster, and binge watching her favorite chick flicks. An eternity of happiness was gone within a second. Millions of memories would end today. A promise and a unique bond were broken, and could never be the same.

This should have been the beginning of his journey into adulthood, but why did it feel like the ending of an era? An alternate future had now been created, destroying the other future in the process. It was the end; his life would officially never be the same again. It had been unfairly taken from him, and he wanted to take it back. That left him with one answer, vengeance.


	5. E is for Envy

**Chapter 5:** E is for Envy

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the delayed update. School has recently started, and I have been having trouble adjusting to the new work load. This is less like an actual one shot, and more like a short glimpse into a character's head/feelings.

 _ **Envy:**_ _a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another's advantages, success, and possessions_

He envied him. He envied how he seemed to do everything perfectly in life. He envied how he seemed to be the perfect son, brother, and friend. He envied how naturally smart he was, not even have to prepare that hard. He envied how he was able to glide through school, as if it was a video game, and not a life course.

He felt guilty that he envied him. It wasn't his fault, everyone preferred him. They would praise the intelligence of the great Frank Hardy, while Joe would bask in his shadow. It is ironic that, his brother felt the same way about him. Frank envied him for his outgoing personality, his success with girls, and his chill personality.

He wished he had green eyes, in order to cover up the green-eyed monster that erupted inside of him. This, as he thought, was just the normal sibling rivalry. The competition pushed Frank and him to try to be better than each other. Sibling rivalry was their solidity and their downfall. Envy was one of the most deadly sins that overtook him. More the greed, lust, and wrath, the jealousy was his main motive for everything. He was envious of his brother even though he loved him, and that was okay.


	6. F is for Furious

**Chapter 1:** F is For Furious

 **Author's Note:** I have been so busy this year, I have totally neglected this story. I will be trying to update as fast as I could possibly write. Enjoy!

 _ **Furious:**_ _full of anger or energy; violent or intense_

He felt it. The hot and burning anger spreading through his lungs. His breathing getting heavier and his pupils dilating. He felt his chest tighten and his fingers slowly start to curl into a defense position. A bead of sweat fell down his forehead as he felt a horrible pain. His muscles became stiff as he prepared to fight. He could feel it racing, his heart. It provided him was adrenaline to do something out of character for him. It was the culmination, the climax of what had happened to him.

This was the second stage of grief, anger. He wasn't sad that Iola died anymore, he was furious. Angry at everyone, himself, his brother, father, mother, aunt, uncle, grandparents and more. It was a feeling that he had never quite experienced before. The pure anger which made him resemble a wild animal and he vowed to take back everything he lost. Limits did not exist as he needed his soul mate back in his life again.

He didn't have control over his body, as he became similar to a marionette doll. It was his entire fault. It was horrible, to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, while he was breaking. It was a slow self-destruction, this was the breaking point. He had lost some many people in his life, but this was the first person he lost that he had truly loved.

It made his stomach churn at the thought. Everything he had eaten that day, trying to climb its way out. The stiffness in his muscles disappeared, and he suddenly felt woozy. He stumbled until he finally crashes to the floor. He sank down against a nearby wall and he started crying, and didn't stop.


	7. G is for Gilded

**Chapter 7:** G is for Gilded

 **Author's Note:** So sorry for the long wait! School has really taken over my life for the last few months. So this is basically an AU I wrote years ago about a friendship between Callie, Iola, and Vanessa, because I think they would have been a great trio, which we never really got to see in the books. Enjoy!

 ** _Gilded_** ** _:_** **** _based on pretense; deceptively pleasing_

The dark, brown box now looked brand new, as it had just been bought hours earlier, The three girls were hoping that the box would be encrusted with age, decades from now. The brown box had shiny clasps that gleamed every time it was opened. The first girl swung her long, red hair as she set down and placed a lone earring that glinted in the sun. It was large and gaudy with red feathers, which looked like it was from a tropical bird. It was an earring that she wore on her first dance recital. She remembered it clearly, the spotlight giving her the confidence to follow her dreams.

The second girl laid the tattered photo that had occupied her bedroom wall for the last few weeks. She had remembered it all. The crying, pain, and agony she had experienced when her grandmother had dies. By putting her last memory of her grandmother away, she felt as if she could finally live in peace.

The last girl decided that she didn't have anything sentimental to preserve in the time capsule. So instead she placed her copy of her favorite book. The book deeply contrasted to the other materials in the time capsule. Her book was worn out, frayed, passages marked for reference, and the ripped pages that came with age. She believed that it showed love, instead of hate.

The time capsule was carefully lain in a freshly dug hole three feet into the ground, along with a note on crisp, white paper inside that said the three girls names, and today's date. They had each buried something that had meaningful to them; all they had to do now was wait, for a younger generation to find the pieces of them that had been buried alive.


End file.
